Prisoner 456
by WJEvans
Summary: Lucius Malfoy then turned to his son, who was sitting next to him. “Now, now Draco,” he said casually, “don’t look at me this way. With proper training and assistance, of course, she will be fit to carry the family name.”
1. Chapter 1

"Auctioning off prisoner 1345, prisoner 1345. Twenty-one years old, top of her class, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, part Veela. Starting the bidding at 350 galleons."

A hand raised somewhere in the second row.

"Three hundred fifty galleons, do I hear 400 galleons?"

Another hand raised and the bidder spoke a quick, "450".

"Four hundred and fifty galleons, going once, going twice, sold."

A curly haired brunet was then lead to the center of the stage; her eyes glinting with unshed tears.

"Auctioning off prisoner 487, prisoner 487. Nineteen years old, top of her class, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, muggleborn." This last word brought a collective hiss from the crowd. Ignoring this, the man continued. "Excelled at household charms, starting the bidding at fifty galleons."

A woman hesitantly raised her hand.

"Fifty, do I hear one hundred"

No one moved and the man repeated, "do I hear one hundred," he looked around the room, "sold for fifty galleons."

The room held its breath as the next prisoner was dragged on to the stage. Like the others, she was wearing a long, old-fashioned gown. However, unlike the other, her eyes flashed with a blazing hatred which contrasting the deadness in the eyes of the rest.

"Auctioning off prisoner 456, prisoner 456. Eighteen years old, excelling at potions and transfiguration, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, old English pureblood. Starting the bidding at four hundred galleons."

One of the guards gripped the bottom of her chin and forced it upwards, allowing the crowd to see her face. Everyone in this room knew this face; her hair alone was a telltale sign of who she was. Leaving her chin, the guard slowly drew his finger across her jaw causing her to snap at him in what looked to be an attempt to bite off his finger. Some of the crowd sniggered and she bared her teeth in a snarl.

"Father," one young man said quietly, "bid on her, you know I prefer them feisty."

Nodding once the man raised his hand.

"Four hundred galleons, do I hear 450?"

Another man raised his hand, quickly followed by two others.

The auctioneer counted rapidly, "six hundred galleons, do I hear 650?"

Hand and hand rose however the bidding price was slowly falling. This girl would be a trophy in anyone's collection.

"Nine hundred seventy-five galleons, do I hear one thousand?"

Most of the men weighed their options, it _was_ a lot of money and it _was_ only one girl but most of their sons had been staring at her for the past hour. Another voice boomed through the room, cutting through all their thoughts. " Five thousand galleons."

The room was silent. All heads turned to see the imposing figure who had bid the incredible sum. The auctioneer cleared his throat.

"Five thousand galleons going once, going twice… sold to Lucius Malfoy for 5,000 galleons."

Lucius Malfoy then turned to his son, who was sitting next to him. "Now, now Draco," he said casually, "don't look at me this way. With proper training and assistance, of course, she will be fit to carry the family name."


	2. Chapter 2

The doors to the grand building opened and small, collective groups of finely dressed people drifted into the street where their carriages were waiting. It was night, only the dim light from the street lamps illuminated the scene. The prisoners had been released of their magical bonds inside the building and were being led to the carriages by their new owners.

Draco Malfoy lifted the collar of his black, wool coat to shield his neck from the harsh wind and chilly mist. He cursed under his breath for forgetting his hat at the Manor. Draco continued to stare at the pavement under his feet. This wasn't what he expected. The War ended three years ago when Harry Potter fell during the Battle of Nurmengard. Potter's death seemed to crush the last bit of hope out of the Order of the Phoenix and it had slowly crumbled. The Death Eaters had been killing off members ever since. Captured wizards and witches had been kept in Azkaban but now, young witches were being auctioned off.

This was the second auction Draco had attended but he hadn't actually expected his father to buy someone- he thought his father just wanted to be seen at the parties held before the bidding. Now, not only had this father bought a prisoner, but he expected Draco to marry her. And she was a Weasley!

Draco knew that, at 27, he was nearing the end of the proper age to settle down and carry on the Malfoy lineage. Before the War, he had been engaged to Pansy Parkinson. Despite what everyone thought, he had love Pansy and had loved her since their time at Hogwarts. She had been murdered though, a few months before the War had ended.

For a few seasons after her death, Draco had locked himself in his wing at the Manor. It was only two weeks ago that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had finally been able to get Draco out into the public eye. Draco was still quite quiet at dinner parties and with large groups, but he was smiling and on good days, he even flirted with Astoria Greengrass. A bit of flirting here and there was fine for Draco. Marriage, however, especially to a Weasley, was too much to handle.

Narcissa Malfoy looked across the carriage to her only son, frowning as she noticed his blank expression. In the end, he would see it was for the best. Even though the girl had an unfavorable immediate family, she had impeccable blood and a pretty face. With a few months of edicate lessons, a new wardrobe, and improved posture, Ginevra Weasley would be fit to be Mrs. Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Malfoy Manor stood dark and imposing on the hill, looking as though it had been untouched by life for generations. Ivy crept along columns outlining the entryway, strangling the old stone. A peacock pecked at the ground in search of seeds.

The carriages bounded along the winding path as they made their way to the front gate. The second carriage, however, carrying only the one passenger, would continue to the back of the estate, near the servants entrance. It would be weeks before the passengers would interact again and life, until that point, continued on as usual.

Lucius Malfoy continued to exert his presence and new position in the Ministry by striding around London and Diagon Alley in his new fur clock and posse of Death Eaters. Narcissa Malfoy continued to hold her weekend brunches for the wives and daughters of influential followers. Draco retreated into his solitary ways, only being lured out by a quick game of quidditch.

The Manor was colossal, with numerous wings, libraries, and parlors. No one could here the screams and nightmares of a young girl. Even vials of dreamless sleep couldn't appease her.

"Wake up, wake up."

Ginny moaned and turned over, nuzzling her head deeper into her pillow.

"Mi- Miss Weasley, you must wake up. Hazel was supposed to have you ready and at lessons by now. Miss Weasley, Miss Weasley. Please, or Hazel will be in trouble."

Ginny opened one eye and peered through her dark hair at the tiny, frail elf who was holding a cup of sweet tea.

Ginny reached out her arm, her eyes avoiding the bruises left on her wrist from the magical bonds. She sat up, her back aching slightly less than normal, which she assumed was due to sleeping on a bed, and took a sip of tea. Ginny coughed as she felt the liquid burn her throat. How long at it been since she had presented with anything other than murky water and bread?

"You must hurry, Miss Weasley. You must hurry." Hazel pulled Ginny out of the tiny cot she had been sleeping on and into a small bathroom. After a quick bath and a few scrubbing charms, Ginny was deemed fit to walk through the servant halls and into an old, unused study. Hazel left with a pop, leaving Ginny alone in the musty room.

From a small window on the wall, Ginny observed the wind whip through the ancient trees and cause leaves to fall to the ground. It must be fall, Ginny thought. She had lost track of the seasons in her cell.

Hazel appeared in the room with a "pop" and left just as suddenly, leaving only a letter. Ginny walked to the desk, flexing her skinny legs as they protested from misuse. Her fingers found the ornate stationary.

_Try to behave, it will make the transition easier._

_ -N_


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny twitched against the stiff, frozen wood of her high-backed chair. She was used to the cold but had not been forced to sit up so straight in what felt like years. Her shoulders ached but she couldn't move. Ginny guessed the chair had been charmed to keep the one perched on it in perfect posture.

The small, dark wood-paneled room contained only a velvet damask patterned love seat and the chair in which Ginny currently sat. The walls were adorned with only two portraits, both water stained and unmoving. Ginny assumed they belonged to long forgotten and ostracized Malfoy relatives. There was no indication on time apart from the movement of shadows on the wall from the lone window behind Ginny's back. The light was useless, however, as Ginny never excelled in any of Professor Sinistra's courses.

Ginny assumed she must have been waiting for over an hour and finally gave in to the heaviness of her eyelids. It was easy enough to sleep in a sitting position, Ginny quickly discovered that the best way to keep warm in her prison was by keeping compact. The first few weeks, Ginny stayed awake at night, pressed against the cell bars trying to whisper to Hermione who had been placed just across the corridor. Ginny tried to stay as close to her friend as she could when the dementors made their hourly rounds but hope quickly faded from Hermione's eyes. It was easy enough to become accustomed to the screams of her floor mates but Ginny couldn't bear the emptiness she saw in Hermione. Ginny finally made her way to the dingy mattress in the corner. It was easiest to sleep in a sitting position- it required less hassle when she was called in the middle of the night for "questioning."

Ginny once read in a muggle novel she borrowed from Hermione one summer that only the guilty slept in prison. It did not take long before she succumbed to sleep, though she found no solace in it. Ginny heard the slow turn of the door knob and creaking of old wood as the stranger entered the room. Ginny keep her eyes clothes and pictured the person, a woman from the sound of the clack of heels on the hard floor, enter the small space and settle in the love seat. The woman made no noise but Ginny could feel the foreign eyes scan her body.

"Ginevra Weasley, eighteen years old. I've been told you are," she paused, her tone taking on a slightly blithe note, "spirited." She smiled, "I'll make sure to knock that right out of you." The woman rose and brushed out her robes. "Good bone structure, average height and build, clearly a bit malnourished," she walked around Ginny's chair twice before stopping and placing her hands on its arms. Ginny opened her eyes as the elderly woman leaned in, "I can see your appeal, but youth will fade." She straightened and pointed her long, silverly wand at Ginny's chest. "Rise."

Ginny felt a sharp full and found herself standing shakily as blood rushed to her head. "Walk." Ginny had no control over her body as she paced the small room, realizing that she must have been spelled not to speak. Ginny tried to give her puppeteer a glare but could not move her head. Her entire body was under a malleable binding spell, every time the woman made a command, Ginny's body reacted.

Long after the sun had set and the frost began to creep along the window panes, the session was over. "Make sure to rest, you need it."

Hazel escorted Ginny back to her room, helped the young witch into bed, and watched sleep claim her. With a _pop_, Hazel appeared in Narcissa's boudoir. Narcissa, dabbing perfume on her wrists, eyed the tiny elf as it walked to the pensive in the corner and place a long finger to its temple. "All memories of the day, Hazel made sure to watch the entire lesson." The elf disapparated immediately and left Narcissa alone with her thoughts. She could easily remember her etiquette lessons as a child; countless hours of learning how to properly walk, curtsy, and hold polite conversations with influential people had served her well in life. The only way this situation could be successful would be if they could completely reform Weasley girl. It was going to work, Narcissa thought as she walked out of her room and into the hallway, it had to.

Narcissa remembered to smile as she entered her husband's study.


End file.
